[In spite of herself, Lexa is half asleep again when Clarke's ever noisy steps stir her, a bag with weapons and tools on her lap, perhaps a few tiny sentimental trinkets tucked into her pockets. Blinking, her green eyes look wider and younger without the war paint. A girl, not a commander, woken from her rest.]
Did you find what you were looking for? [She rises to her feet, still unsteady but willing herself past it.]
no subject
Did you find what you were looking for? [She rises to her feet, still unsteady but willing herself past it.]